


how i've longed to see your face again

by rwbyfics



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Maidens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwbyfics/pseuds/rwbyfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[don't look at me like i'm a stranger, don't be scared there is no danger]</p>
            </blockquote>





	how i've longed to see your face again

Winter meets Amber during her first year of enlistment. 

For a while, it’s just the two of them; half of the Maidens’ power remains asleep somewhere in Remnant, and they’re the only ones who have had the Maidenhood passed down to them. By Ozpin’s command, General Ironwood brings Amber to Atlas himself. He’s the official Guardian present when Winter and Amber meet for the first time. 

Amber’s quiet, but not shy. 

She stands out immediately. It’s not just her tanned skin in the pale sunlight and snow of Atlas, but it’s the energy that she’s exerting without even trying; she’s emboldened by this light inside of her, gold and red and warm. Winter gives her a hand to shake, and she takes it. Instead of shaking it though, she holds it in two of hers, and smiles.

Winter’s taken with her at first sight.

Maybe it’s in the curve of her slight shoulders or her slender hands or the ancient through-line that connects them – whatever it is, it’s got her reeling. 

“You’ll be staying in Miss Schnee’s quarters for your stay here in Atlas. I trust that you’ll find your accommodations pleasing.” Ironwood says, while Amber’s still holding Winter’s hand in both of hers. 

“Oh, if I’m with Miss Schnee, I think I’ll be just fine,” Amber says, and her voice is breathy and limber and Winter can’t stop staring at her mouth even though she knows it’s rude. 

The General makes a noise that sounds a bit like choking, and Winter tries to tear her eyes away from this girl in front of her to make some semblance of normality, but she can’t. 

“You’ll be leaving in three days time, Amber. I’ll escort you back to Beacon myself. Professor Ozpin has requested to speak with you when you return.” Ironwood says, then steps back. He says, “Miss Schnee,” once, and leaves the room. 

“Winter, right?” Amber asks, turning Winter’s gloved palm to fold their fingers together. “I’m Amber.” 

“You’re the Fall Maiden,” Winter says, a bit dazed. The back of her throat is dry and hot. 

Amber’s eyes twinkle. 

“And you’re the Winter Maiden,” She supplies the second half of the sentence in earnest, squeezes Winter’s hand a little tighter. “You’re warmer than I expected you to be.” 

Winter falls in love then and there.

–

It takes two days. 

Two days for Winter to touch Amber, and when she does, she curses herself for not doing it sooner. 

It’s late into the second night of Amber’s stay, and Winter’s gone in search for another blanket for her guest. Amber’s unfamiliar with the climate of Atlas, and the chill of the air snakes into every crack of their small, shared room, crawls into her bones. 

Somehow, Winter managed to bite her tongue and keep herself from getting up in the middle of the night and pulling Amber into her own bed. 

She finds an extra blanket in a linen closet down the hall and makes her way back to the room.

Amber turns her head when she walks in, and Winter finds her mind fuzzy at the edges. 

Amber’s adjusting the straps of her leather harness, massaging a spot where one taut line had pulled too tight during the day. Her blouse and unbuckled corset lie on the cot next to her crossed legs. The tops of her breasts are visible from where Winter stands in the doorway; she can see where tanned leather draws intricate patterns across the soft skin of her chest. 

“Oh,” Winter says, breath catching when Amber faces her. “I’m sorry – ”

“Don’t be,” Amber says immediately. “Please, don’t be.”

There’s so much else behind her words that Winter’s head swims. Amber stands and takes the blanket from Winter, murmuring her thanks in passing. She turns to unfold it and spread it across her cot. When she turns back around, Winter’s staring at her with heavy, hungry eyes. She steps forward and Amber meets her halfway, hands outstretched for anything to grab hold of. 

Winter presses her palm against Amber’s breastbone. 

She gasps a little under her breath; there’s red flashing behind her eyelids when Amber places her hand over hers and urges her to splay her fingers further. That’s Amber in one gesture; willing Winter to press harder when she’s afraid she’ll break. Winter opens her eyes weakly to see the other girl breathing deep under her fingers, hazel eyes half lidded. The connection between them is tangible; the sweat mingling between their palms smells of rich copper and clean silk. 

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to touch me?” Amber whispers. Winter stirs when she talks, almost moves her hand away but Amber grasps her by the wrist and brings her back. “No, don’t – there, stay there, please.” Winter nearly whimpers when she sees the pink tip of Amber’s tongue appear to wet the valley of her Cupid’s bow. She doesn’t know how Amber manages not to sound needy when she’s practically pleading with her. 

But this is Amber – strong in the ways that Winter is not, plaintive and honest, with all of her guards down. That’s fall for you, Winter thinks, it just  _ is _ . 

“Have you?” 

Amber’s voice breaks through her reverie, and Winter gets the sense that she’s repeating herself. 

“Have you wanted to touch me?” She says, tracing Winter’s index finger with hers. “Have you thought about this?” Winter’s eyes shift down to the sliver of skin her hand’s claiming; the place under Amber’s leather harness, soft and warm and tender like her and her mouth – 

“Yes,” Winter says breathlessly. “God,  _ yes _ .” 

Winter steps closer and Amber has to tilt her head back to stare at her when they’re chest to chest. Winter turns her wrist slightly to let her thumb rest at the top of Amber’s sternum and her gloved fingers stretch across her stomach. Winter lifts her other hand and traces the length of Amber’s forearm, all the way up to the shoulder, before resting at the buckle of her harness, just under the highest knot of her spine. 

“Can I?” She murmurs. 

Amber shudders, curls her toes into the ground and stretches upwards to kiss Winter. The pliant warmth of her mouth is expected, but the sharp bite of teeth grazing Winter’s bottom lip is not. When Amber pulls away, she smiles, wolfish. 

“You don’t have to ask for something that’s already yours, Winter.” She says, and it’s so genuine and honest that Winter has to kiss her because she’s at such a loss for words.

–

Amber leaves on the third day, but not after kissing Winter on the Airship docks, in front of General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch, who goes back to flicking through the news on her Scroll when they don’t break apart after the first fifteen seconds. The flush that colors Winter’s cheeks after they part is a small price to pay to be kissed like that, all supple mouth and slick, gentle tongue. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Winter.” Amber whispers when her arms are still entangled around Winter’s neck and the breath between the two of them is warm and wet. She says it with such certainty that Winter can’t be sad about seeing her go. 

–

Soon turns out to be six months later, during an impromptu visit to Vale to meet with Ozpin. 

As Winter rides up to the top of the glass tower, she admires the mechanisms that power the building; if this is what Ozpin could do with leftover cogs of clock towers and recycled bits of machinery, what could he do with actual government-issued materials? It’s no wonder that Atlas offered the position of General to him before asking Ironwood. 

When the elevator doors open, Winter raises her brows in surprise to find an almost-empty office. Empty save for one figure perched on Ozpin’s desk, fiddling with a Scroll application. Winter squints at the face reflected in the transparent window. 

“Amber?” 

“Winter?” 

“They didn’t tell me you’d be coming today!” Amber jumps off the desk and crosses the room to greet her.

“I didn’t know either – how’ve you been?”

Winter gets cut off by a kiss, slow and languorous, and then Amber’s hands are tangled in her hair, cupping her cheeks, grasping her hands and placing them on her ass,  _ everywhere _ . 

“They wouldn’t let me get in touch with you,” Amber mumbles into the kiss. “Ironwood, the bastard, said I’d distract you from your training.” 

“You could never.” Winter says fiercely. 

“That’s what I told him but –  _ ah _ – he wouldn’t hear it,” Amber pulls away, holds Winter’s face in her hands and smudges a clumsy kiss at the corner of her mouth. “God, I’m so happy to see you, I’ve missed you so much.” Amber kisses her one more time before settling back onto her heels. 

“Do you know why we’re here? Do you think they’ve found another Maiden?” 

Winter furrows her brow. 

“I don’t know. Ironwood wouldn’t tell me anything on the ride over here. It feels like they’ve been keeping us out of the loop.” 

Amber nods her agreement, absently brushing her thumb across Winter’s cheek. 

“We’ll figure it out soon. Try not to worry.” 

Winter leans down to kiss Amber again, chaster this time, and a bit more playful. It’s a school girl kiss, all giggles and fluttering, nervous hands. 

“I’ve missed you.” She says, staring down at Amber. “So much.” 

“I’ve missed you more.” Amber replies. The rumble of the elevator shakes the ground beneath them. “Come here, I’ve got to fix your hair and make it look like you haven’t been thoroughly debauched.” 

“Even though I have.” Winter says warmly.

–

Amber’s guess turns out to be right. 

The third maiden has been found: Summer Rose, twenty-five, currently in Mountain Glenn with the rest of her team, unable to be reached. She’s married to one of her team members, and they live in Patch. Amber and Winter won’t be able to meet her until early next year likely, when she returns to civilization after her Hunting contract is completed.

“Her name’s Summer?” Winter snorts. “Original.” 

“Like you’re one to talk.” Amber giggles. 

“Sometimes our Maidens hide in plain sight.” Ozpin says placatingly. “Others,” He casts a look at the hundreds of digital files spread onto his desk. “Take a bit more work to find.” Amber gives him a sympathetic smile. “Rest assured, the two of you will be given timely updates on our search to find the final Maiden. For now, return to your homes. Miss Schnee, I trust your studies are going well?” 

Winter straightens a bit in her chair. “They are, thank you. I’m expected to graduate the academy in two months’ time. General Ironwood has offered me a position on his Special Operatives Team.” 

Ozpin smiles kindly at her. 

“Then we will be seeing more of each other.” Ozpin stands and leans on his cane for a bit. “And you, Amber,  always have a teaching job here, if you wish to put your Hunts on hold.” 

Amber mirrors him and stands. “Thanks, Professor, but I think I’m good for now.” She offers Winter a hand, and the taller woman accepts, smoothing her coat when she stands. 

“Safe travels, ladies,” Ozpin says when they walk towards the elevator.

The doors close, and there’s a bit of quiet. 

“You’re really graduating in two months?” 

Winter nods. “I’ll have a house in Atlas if I take the position that Ironwood’s offered.”

“You will, won’t you? It sounds too good to pass up.”

“I will.” 

Amber makes a little noise of wonder under her breath. It sounds like stars.

“And you should come live with me.”

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Winter, we haven’t even known each other for that long, are you sure?” 

Winter takes Amber’s hands in hers and kisses a narrow line down her tan knuckles. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She leans down to bump her forehead against Amber’s. “Two months. Can you wait until then?” 

Amber draws in a breath, blows it out with indignance. “Of course I can. I’d wait forever to be with you.” 

–

Nobody from Winter’s family shows up to her graduation. 

It doesn’t matter, because after she stands on the raised platform and takes the picture and forces a smile, she finds Ironwood and hands him a small piece of paper. “If you see Amber, will you give this to her?” Ironwood tucks the paper into his breast pocket and gives Winter a glance from down the sharp angle of his Roman nose. 

“I don’t know when I’ll see her next, but when I do, I’ll be sure to.” He pauses. “I’m certain you know the dangers that arise when two Maidens become… romantically involved with one another. Not just to themselves, but to Remnant itself. If one of you becomes injured or worse yet, killed, society itself will be shaken to its core. Every piece of magic that the Guardians have tried to keep hidden will be unveiled.” 

Winter steels her jaw. “I understand, sir.” 

“Your position as a military official means that you become selfless for Remnant. This entanglement is ill-advised, if the safety of the people are your concern.” 

Winter doesn’t falter under Ironwood’s gaze. “I’ve been selfless all my life, General. If my relationship with Amber is selfish, then I don’t really mind.” She meets his dark gaze and bows a little before walking off. She has to pack her things, get everything together for Amber. 

–

Two weeks later, Amber shows up on her front step with three bags and a train ticket clamped between her teeth. She’s bright-eyed and luminescent, especially with snowflakes spangling her hair and eyelashes like she’s a party favor. Winter wants to unwrap her with her teeth. 

“Home sweet home?” She mumbles through clenched teeth, and Winter steps outside to kiss her in the frigid cold, kisses her for what seems like an eternity, before hooking her fingers in Amber’s vest and dragging her inside to christen their bed.

–

They’re almost a year into living together, and there’s an ache in Winter’s teeth all the time, like there’s worry centered in her head. 

Amber is always sweet on her, but at night, there’s a restlessness that settles, like a thirst that can’t be sated. They’re domestic; it’s easy to see. Amber makes Winter’s coffee in the morning, goes on small Hunts when she has the time to, attends all the galas and functions that she can. It’s not what she’s used to, it’s not even what Winter’s used to, but sometimes, it seems like it’s not enough for Amber.

She reads articles on Huntresses and Huntsmen obsessively, comments on them during dinner with Winter. “I saw that Summer Rose is still in Mountain Glenn. Her contract’s been extended into the spring.” Amber says, the slight color in her cheeks betraying her disinterested tone. 

“Really? Ozpin said we’d get to meet her sooner.” Winter frowns. 

“I guess not.” Amber gestures vaguely to her Scroll. “Imagine being in Mountain Glenn for that long. Around all those Grimm. Almost a year-long Hunt.” She releases a soft, awed breath. 

“I’ve never been partial towards the Hunt. That sounds like something you’d enjoy more than I would.” Winter comments while taking both of their plates and rinsing them in the sink. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” 

So Winter takes it upon herself to show Amber that she can be enough for her; she presses the smaller woman into the bed and traces the tip of her tongue into the hollow of Amber’s throat and molds her mouth to the sensitive stretch of skin where slender neck meets slight shoulder and gives until Amber moans and shudders to a sparking, grating stop. Winter’s willing to give everything that she has to make Amber stay. 

When they’re together, something comes over her – it’s electric and seamless. Inseparable, the curtain where the seasons begin and end cannot be parted. It’s in the blink of an eye, but suddenly, the differences between them have become more than apparent. Winter gives and gives and gives until one morning, Amber makes her coffee and instead of going back to bed, sits at the table and looks down at her hands. 

“I’m going on a Hunt,” She says. 

“Okay,” Winter does the clasp at the waist of her coat. She pulls her gloves on, stretches the fine leather onto her fingertips. “When will you be back?” 

Amber stays silent. 

“Amber,” Winter says. Her voice is a flat pond frozen over. “When will you be back?” 

“Winter.”

“No.” 

“Winter, listen to me,” Amber starts.

“Don’t say my name like that, please, it sounds like you’re leaving.” Winter breathes out, steadying herself against the kitchen counter. She closes her eyes, tilts her head back as the world spins. 

“I’m not leaving, I’m just taking a break from this for a while.” 

“From what? From us?”

The silence between them is damning.

“It amazes me,” Winter says softly. “That after all this, you think there’s a place where you end and I start.” She spares a harsh laugh. “When do you leave?” 

“Tonight.”

“Safe travels.”

Winter leaves, and in her wake, the chill of Atlesian cold arrives to take her place.

–

It only takes half a week before Winter’s drunk and calling Amber, begging her to come home. She knows that she won’t get service until she returns to a populated area, but Winter misses her touch most of all, the anchoring weight of her soft, nimble body. It’s thirty-five minutes and twenty-seven seconds into the voicemail when she drunkenly gets herself off and cries Amber’s name like it’s second nature. 

“I miss you,” She murmurs, over and over into the phone. “Amber, come home. I’ll be enough, I promise.” 

Winter groans and drags her slick palms across the bedsheets – still ripe with the scent of Amber’s perfume – and shoves the heels of her hands into her swollen eyes. “Amber, I just want you to be safe.” She murmurs in the dark. Her Scroll screen glows blue in her room. “Come home.” 

She ends the call herself for once, and saves herself the humiliation of being cut off by the cool voice of the automated Scroll recording. 

–

Amber’s been gone a full week when it happens. 

Winter nearly blacks out during a grounds check at work, in front of Ironwood and an entire team of direct subordinates following behind like obedient ducklings. One minute she’s pointing out a flaw in their security system and the next, there’s this searing, hollow pain eating at her veins, and she teeters on her heels and slumps onto the snow-covered ground, panting and glassy-eyed. It’s like she’s been poisoned, and she’s sweating through her blouse and her hairline is beading and the chill in the air freezes it there before it even has a chance to drip down her neck. 

“Miss Schnee!” 

Someone’s screaming at her but all Winter can think about is Amber – something’s wrong, she’s in trouble – there’s fire  _ everywhere _ , and she lets out a panicked, frustrated groan. She grabs at something vaguely Ironwood shaped in her periphery and pulls. The General is face-level with her, and she tells him, because he has to know – “Amber, Amber – it’s Amber,  _ help her, please _ – “ 

She sees black. 

–

Ironwood flies her out to Beacon Academy the same night. 

They won’t tell her anything, no matter how much she screams or curses or threatens. She stares out the window, refusing to acknowledge the General, stony-faced and flexing his steel fingers. It’s one of his tells when he’s distressed. She doesn’t care about him right now, not when she knows that something’s not right with Amber and she’s not sure if it ever will be again. 

Once they land in Vale, Ironwood whisks her inside the Tower, but instead of going up to Ozpin’s office, he brushes a key fob against the steel control panel. The elevator creaks, a bit uncertain about the command that it just received, before plummeting them down into the earth. Winter grabs the rail along the wall, ignoring the way that her stomach lurches. Green lights cast shadows across her face as they descend faster and faster.

It doesn’t surprise her that Ozpin has a vault under his office; nothing that Ozpin does surprises her anymore, but when the elevator doors pry apart and Ozpin is standing there, pacing, looking utterly uncertain for the first time, she is taken aback. 

“Amber was attacked during one of her Hunts. Qrow found her but someone tried to take her Maidenhood from her. They took half of her power before the connection was severed. ”

Winter steps out of the elevator, sways a little. 

Down the narrow hall of the vault, something glows angelically white. 

“Is she alive?” 

“Barely.” 

Ozpin shoves a hand through his messy hair. He sags for a moment on his cane. He looks older here in the emerald light of the vault. Each line in his face is that much more defined and angular. “We have her on life support currently. She’s unresponsive to any outside stimulation. I’m afraid she’s comatose.” 

“Let me see her.”

The professor hesitates before using his cane to gesture. “She’s down the hall. The General and I will give you time alone.”

Winter walks down the hall, ears ringing hollow as each footstep echoes, multiplied in the dark room. The elevator hums from behind her, but all she cares about is that ghostly pale ring of light. She steps closer, and when she sees what’s before her, she sinks to her knees and sobs. 

Amber, suspended in a glass chamber, a forked scar stretched across the width of her small, narrow face. Her jewelry and armor had been stripped from her. All that was left was her body, pale and glowing like a miniature supernova. Winter crawls forward on her knees to press her cheek against the glass. 

“Amber…” Her shoulders cave into themselves for a moment. Winter calls her name, slams her fist to the barrier between them. The noise that tears its way from her throat is animal, low and pained. She claps a hand over her mouth and weeps. The vault is cold, and Amber’s eyes stay closed, and Winter curls into herself and sobs until no sound comes out. 

Upstairs, the cogwork of Ozpin’s tower churns. 


End file.
